Testing Fate
by mango19
Summary: Another 10 year reunion fic, focussing on surprise, surprise Claire and Bender. After 10 years of not seeing each other, can they find thier way?
1. Chapter 1

Title: Testing Fate

A/N: Yes, I know, another ten year reunion story. And yes, another Claire/Bender story. But it's my take, and I hope it's slightly unique. Please, let me know what you think.

"Has it really been ten years?" John thought to himself. Ten years. And what a difference those ten years made. Nothing amounted to much out of the Breakfast Club except for Andrew and Allison, which he guessed was enough as where she was six months pregnant.

Other than that though, they had kept in loose contact, an occasional note or message on the machine, but nothing too committing. Just the way he liked it.

After that fateful Saturday, John had dutifully gone to his required classes and numerous Saturday detentions, but Claire went her way, and everybody else went theirs. He couldn't blame her, really. Thinking back, she had the most to lose. She was the head of several committees and, in all honesty, head of her group, who were head of the school.

So she went her way, and won Prom Queen, as he expected. But somehow she was surprised, genuinely surprised, when she won. He would know, because he was hiding out in the corner, trying to distract himself with Holly Carter, or was it Heidi? Who cared? Long story short, he had failed in his plan because he had spent his entire evening miserable and wanting. Or at least almost his entire evening.

When Claire had won Prom Queen he needed air. He couldn't sit around and watch her be all beautiful and insecure. He couldn't sit and watch her as she spent her evening with some guy who could never give her what she needed. So Heidi went for some punch, and he went for the door.

Exiting the right side of the gymnasium put him directly onto the field. He was half way across toward the bleachers when she came running after him. "John! John!" Claire yelled running in her pink satin pumps on the wet, muddy field. He turned as she approached, flushed from the run, or the excitement. "Are you leaving?" She asked. She had this look in her hazel eyes that made his want to grab her and shake some sense into her, or grab her and kiss her senseless, he couldn't decide.

"Yeah," he replied, wondering if she knew the weight of those words.

"I heard a rumour that you're going to New York City." She stated, avoiding his eyes and looking over his shoulder instead at nothing in particular.

He paused at this, wondering how much to tell her. "I leave tomorrow morning, my uncle is picking me up." He responded.

A heavy silence was held between them. Neither breathed, not wanting to break the spell. "Okay then. Have a safe trip, I guess." She said, picking up her skirt to make her exit.

"Yeah, thanks. I, ah, I guess I'll see you around." He responded, turning and quickly walking away. Looking back on it, he probably didn't want her to do it first.

"Listen!" She called after him. When he turned around he was a solid ten feet from her and she was exactly where he left her. "I know I've been a total bitch, okay? For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

Looking at her there, with the light fog hanging between them, and the field lights casting an almost romantic glow, he never thought anybody could be more beautiful. "Yeah, me too." Another pause, and he considered his options. He took the only one he had. "See you later, Claire." He said, turned on his heal and continued on his way.

"See you …" He heard her call after him. His heart broke a little more that day, and he realized he had nothing keeping him in this town.

So he left the following morning giving Andy and Brian his contact information and never looking back.

Thinking about it now, he thought it was the best decision he has ever made. It's easy to stay where you are. He could have easily stayed in his house with his parents, learned a trade, and have a family. But he felt like he was destined for more. Granted, he was no optimist, but at the end of the day, he had to take a chance. Test fate, to see if it was so cruel as to disappoint him again.

Somehow, the whole reason why he took that chance was because of Claire Standish. After all, she was the one who got away. The one who he wanted to prove himself to. At least he was smart enough to realize he had to get away from her. And everybody knows the best place to escape something or someone, is in New York City.

He learned fast that the City could be ruthless and cruel. But he also realized that it could be incredibly supportive if you were willing to work for it. And he was.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: This one is shorter and I apologize for the hold up, my best friend got married this weekend and that took up a lot of time lately. Please review – I would love to hear what you think.

So he started off as a busboy, and somehow ended up owning the place. "Has it really been ten years?" He wondered to himself for the second time that evening. He was wiping down the mahogany bar when she tapped on the window. It was late. Too late, he thought as he saw the red glow of her hair through the window.

He smiled lazily and walked toward the door. He opened it a crack and said the first thing that came to mind. "We're closed."

"But, Johnny," she whined. He hated it when she called him that. Actually, in a sick perverse way, he hated her. "You haven't called in two weeks." She pouted.

"Correction, I've never called you, Lana. It's you who calls me." He looked at her with almost disgust. He hated the way he always went for redheads, and how they all seemed so inadequate somehow. Sure, Lana had served her time and done it well, but out of bed she was a bore. More than that, she was a tiresome bore.

"Let me in, Johnny, pour me a whiskey." She said as she started to push her way in the door. John loomed where he was and his expression became dangerous.

"Not tonight, Lana, go find some other guy to pour you a drink and to take to bed. I'm not interested." He replied, and meant it too. He found that lately taking girls to bed was getting to be more of a hassle than anything else. They always ended up attached, and he always ended up leaving.

When she continued to whine, he promptly shut the door and chained it. Walking back to the bar he picked up a glass, put in two cubes of ice and poured himself a finger of whiskey. Knowing she was still watching him, he raised the glass in a silent toast, and she raised her middle finger and left.

He chuckled out loud as he set the alarm and walked up the stairs to his studio loft above his bar. God, he loved New York City, he thought as rummaged underneath his bed for his suitcase. He couldn't believe he was packing his bags and going to Shermer, of all places.

He didn't even attempt to fool himself as to why he was going. He wanted to see her. Wanted her to see him. He wanted her to show up, feeling hollow and empty with her expensive clothing and phoney husband, and her to see him. To realize his success and maybe have a quick moment of regret. Nothing too dramatic or sorrowful, just a "what might have been" moment. Then, maybe, he could close the door to that chapter of his life. The ten year chapter of his life, where all he wanted was to see her.

Finding his suitcase he tossed it out of the door of his bedroom before taking a handful of clothes and kicking the suitcase toward his black leather couch. He turned on the television and it was already on the channel he was looking for. The Report of Business channel started talking about the stocks and he silently cheered while folding his socks, his stocks went up again. Sure one plummeted, he'd have to get his broker on that one, but overall it was a gain, which he felt pride in.

His mood quickly dropped when the phone rang. It was 2:30 in the morning. Who the hell was calling at 2:30 in the morning? He picked up the phone while zipping up the suitcase. "Yeah?" He asked into the telephone.

"Sir? You're car has arrived, whenever you're ready." A formal voice came across the telephone.

"Thank you." He responded before hanging up. Oh well, sleep was for pussies anyway. So he gathered up his things and his thoughts and carried on. Looking down at the jeans and black button down he was wearing he supposed it would have to do.

He jogged down the stairs, punching numbers into the alarm system he disarmed the alarm. He crossed the dark hardwood floors, armed the alarm and left, locking the door. You can never be too careful.

Leaving Chelsea, he settled into the back seat of the car while it headed to Newark. If he was lucky he would be able to catch a couple of hours shut-eye before arriving in Shermer just in time for a late breakfast.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thanks for the reviews – please continue to let me know what you think.

After 3 hours of delay's, John's dreams of a late breakfast were quickly quashed, and he had to settle for a late lunch. The reason for the delays? Severe thunderstorms, of all things. He could have sworn he could hear fate laughing at him. Hadn't he once called Lana a lightening bolt? Sure, he had meant to say firecracker, but he had had too much to drink and he couldn't think of it. She had never noticed anyway.

When his car pulled up to the hotel, the doorman opened his door immediately. Now that was service. Up in his room the first thing he did was order room service. He could hear his stomach growling, reminding him that it was over twelve hours since he had eaten anything.

He started to unpack his clothing when the phone rang. He took a quick moment to offer up a prayer that it wasn't the hotel calling to say they couldn't make his Western omelette. He tentatively answered the phone, not sure he wanted to speak to the person on the other line.

"Hello?" He asked. Please don't be room service, please don't be room service.

"Hey, Bender, it's Brian. I'm, uh, downstairs." Bender breathed a sigh of relief. His omelette was safe for now. His relief was quickly replaced by excitement.

"Come on up, man, room 2114." With that he hung up, quickly unpacked his clothing and tidied up before there was a neat knock on the door.

When John opened the door he stepped back in shock. Even though he had seen Brian just months ago, for some reason he was expecting the Brian from the Breakfast Club. Little insecure Brian with his fuzzy blonde hair and his clothing that was always hanging off of him. Now, he was anything but that. Tall and filled out, he looked confident if not cocky and had a grin on his face where you just knew he was getting into some sort of trouble.

"Come on in, pretty boy." John said, pulling Brian into a man hug. Looking over Brian's shoulder he saw room service coming his way. He quickly shoved Brian into his room and almost skipped over to the bell man. "I'll take it from here," John said.

"Not to worry, sir, I can bring it in." The man replied stiffly.

"No need, my man." He said lifting the tray from the cart and shoving a twenty into the man's hand simultaneously. "I've got it from here."

He hurried the tray back into his room and sat down across from Brian on the opposite couch. He set the tray down on the oak table in between them and picked up a fork. When Brian leaned over to pick a strawberry off his tray John swatted him away. "If you want to keep your hand, I'd back the hell off, boy." Brian put his hands up in mock-surrender and laughed.

"I saw Andy and Allison downstairs, I told them to come on up whenever they were done settling in, I hope you don't mind." Brian said, rising from his seat and starting to walk around impatiently.

"Not at all," John replied, shovelling fruit salad into his mouth. He watched as Brian picked up a candy bar from the courtesy bar and bite into it. "You owe my five bucks for that." John replied dryly.

"Five bucks!" Brian called out in disgust. He quickly grabbed the "menu" with the prices on it. "It's four-fifty. Besides, you can afford it." He said with a smile.

"It's the principle," John replied with a smile.

Five minutes later there was a knock on the door. Brian opened the door to find Andy and Allison. John got up and greeted them, giving Allison a brief kiss on the cheek and Andy a firm hand shake. "You're glowing." He said to Allison who smiled broadly and made a b-line for John's tray. She snagged a strawberry before he could stop her.

"The only reason why I'm not taking the strawberry away from you is because you're pregnant and beautiful," He knew never to underestimate the power of flattery, "But you do it again, and I swear I'm not responsible for my actions." He said. He could see that his rant was quickly shrugged off when she launched herself into his arms.

"God, we missed you. Didn't we Andy?" She asked looking behind her.

"Yeah, sure, but get your hands off my woman." Andy responded with a smile.

John sat back down in front of his tray as if to guard it. He sat back and watched the drama take place. He never realized how much he missed these people until times like this where Andy was teasing Brian about being some hot-shot computer programmer and Brian was telling Andy that at least he wasn't trying to play hero by being a cop. He winced as Allison picked up another candy bar and bit into it. This trip was going to cost him a fortune.

He heard a soft knock at the door and he looked at Brian. Brian had a guilty look on his face. "Brian?" John asked.

His cheeks grew flush, "When I was in the elevator Claire got on. I couldn't not tell her, Bender." He said, giving a pleading look.

"Well, somebody better answer that door, then." John replied, lifting the top of the metal tray and seeing his Western omelette steam.

Allison answered the door and they proceeded to do their girly screaming thing while the boys watched in awe and rolled their eyes. When the door shut Claire announced her presence.

"Well, it looks like I finally found the party." She said with a smile. John took a good look at her. She looked sophisticated and beautiful. But she also looked tired and thin. She walked over to the couch facing John and sat gracefully. "It's good to see you, John." She said, crossing one leg behind the other.

He couldn't help himself, "Don't they feed you, where you're from?" He asked. When hurt and annoyance passed over his face he breathed a sigh of defeat. While the other's looked on, he raised his knife, cut the omelette in half and pushed half of it toward her and handed her fork.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I'm nervous I'm getting a bit out of character, let me know if you think I am. Please continue to review, I love to hear what you think.

After John had finally kicked the group out in hopes of having a couple hours sleep, he flopped down on the giant down-covered bed and sighed. He was trying to make a conscious effort to analyze the situation. As a general whole, he was not an analyzer, but he wanted to really think about what he was feeling.

Once Claire arrived the atmosphere of the room changed. Everybody became excited because their plan had worked. They had all decided to arrive to their high school reunion a day early to catch up. As the volume of the room increased with the growing animation, John had become increasingly quiet and pensive. When asked, he shrugged it off as being tired, which very well could have been true. The thoughts he was thinking never should have crossed a man's mind when he was at his best.

He looked at Claire with resentment, and he hated himself for it. He resented her because of how much she affected his life, and how little she was involved in it. Looking at Andy and Allison he realized something dreadful. Something he wished he would never realize. He wanted that. He wanted the wife and the children and the dog. Not that he wanted to move to the suburbs and buy a minivan or anything, just that he wanted more than what he had. But really, wasn't that what he always wanted? More than what he had at the time. He was insatiable.

With that thought he could no longer keep his eyes open and he fell into a dreamless slumber. When he awoke three hours later there was a pounding in his head. No wait, it was a knocking at his door. When he ran to the door to open it he realized nobody was there. He shook himself from his sleep-disoriented state, and realized the knock was coming from the door to the adjoining room.

When he unlocked and opened the door he was neither surprised nor disappointed when he saw Claire in mid-knock look up at him startled. "Oh! Hi! Um, I was just talking to Andy and Allison, and they said that she can't wait past seven to eat because she's starving. I figured you might have fell asleep so …"

Glancing quickly at his watch he realized it was a quarter after six. When he looked back up his breath caught. Surly she couldn't be more beautiful than he remembered. But as she stood there, leaned up against the door jamb, he thought that it just might be. She wasn't dressed in a fancy suit like she was that afternoon. She had just pulled on a pair of worn jeans and a green fitted top, but she looked radiant. "Looking good, Red." He said, making his assessment obvious.

"Thanks," she replied lightly pushing herself into his room and sitting on the couch. He looked at her as if he knew where she was going. He couldn't deal with it right then so instead he took the easy way out.

"I'm going to grab a shower" he said, escaping into the bathroom. He quickly shaved and jumped under the hot water. When he wrapped a towel around his waist he felt slightly more than marginally better.

Leaving the bathroom he was surprised to see Claire still in his room. She had relocated, however, to his king sized bed, and damn, she looked really good on it. "Don't you have your own room?" He asked, ignoring that her shirt had ridden up and exposed the small of her back.

"I like yours better," She said, turning to see him, his shoulders still glistening from his shower. Licking her lips, she quickly looked back to the television she was watching.

"In that case, make yourself at home." He responded digging through his dresser to find something suitable to wear. Pulling out a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt he went back into the bathroom to change. While pulling on his jeans he cursed himself as he called thought the door, "Not that I mind, or anything, but isn't your husband going to be a little pissed you're spending so much time with another guy?"

He didn't realize until she spoke that he was holding his breath, "What husband?" she asked.

Waiting until he was out of the bathroom and facing her to finish zipping up his pants he decided to put it out on the line. "You know, the one you got married to eight years ago?"

"Oh _that_ husband." She responded with a smile. She paused as if deciding how to play her next move. "Let's just say, he was the one who inspired me to go into divorce law three years ago."

He laughed quietly, and moved to sit down on the edge of the bed, "So, you're a lawyer?" He asked, running his hands through his short, spiky hair.

"Come on," she responded. And when she did she kept her head resting on her hands on the bed and looked up at him with those eyes. Those eyes that haunted his dreams. Hell, haunted his life. "It's not that bad."

He laughed, half wishing he would tell her what he was thinking. "Never said it was." He knew that she didn't get the double meaning, but the entire situation seemed so surreal, that he decided it didn't really matter.

"Come on," She told him, getting up from the bed and moving quickly to her own room and returning with a pair of black, healed boots. Pulling them on, she said "I told them we'd meet them down there."

He quickly joined her in putting on his shoes, and grabbing his leather jacket. He was waiting by his door when she returned for the second time, this time with her tweed coat. After she threw it on, she paused, "You've changed, John." She said, staring almost in wonder.

In an effort to lighten the mood, he said the first thing that came to his mind. "I sure as hell hope so."


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Not a lot going on in this chapter. And I'm sorry for taking so long with it as I was on vacation. Please review.

An hour later they were all seated at a circular booth at a pub called Heart's Arms. When they finally got settled after hanging their coats on the hooks provided the server came over and took their orders. The three boys all ordered draught, Allison stuck to soda water and Claire requested a glass of chardonnay. John couldn't help the snort that escaped, "Some things never change." Enjoying the laughing response he got from everybody he peaked over at Claire who was seated across from him and he noticed she was laughing, too. Apparently she had grown to not take herself so seriously.

"Yes, I know, I was born with good taste, it's a curse." She said sarcastically. John laughed almost in shock. Apparently she had learned to stick up for herself, too. He liked that. He liked to think that Claire had grown into a strong woman who could defend herself.

Brian kicked in, "This place is kind of like your place, Bender." He said looking at the décor. Heart's Arms was an older building and it showed. The woodwork was a resemblance to all the wood at his place, but this place wasn't as polished as his place. He took pride in knowing that the mahogany and black accents in his bar made it a place that was comfortable for almost everybody. Whether seeking a quiet drinking hole or a night out with the girls, his place was perfect.

Before he had a chance to reply Claire looked at him speculatively, "You own a bar?"

"You should see this place, Claire, it's incredible. Andy and I went up around three years ago right after he bought the place. I think it was three years," Allison said pausing to look at Andy who shrugged, "Yeah, three because it was the opening of my show at the Worthrie's Gallery. Anyway, it's amazing."

"Amazing for the price you paid for it." And piped in grinning, accepting and passing out the beverages the server had brought to them.

"Hey!" John said defensively, "I paid him well for it, considering he was going bankrupt for it. You're just saying that now because I've turned it around." They all took a moment to order their food from the server.

"You're right, John. New owner, new name, new décor and you really have done an amazing job with it." Allison said after the waiter had retreated to put their orders through.

"You should see it now," Brian replied, "he has completely redone the inside of it, when I came to visit six month ago when I was on a conference it looked totally different."

John could see the sadness that crept into Claire's eyes. He wanted her to see what he made of himself, but not like this. Not in a way that made her feel left out and missing. "What about you, Princess?" He asked, silencing the rest of the table.

"What about me?"

"Where have you been the past ten years?"

"Well, after I graduated I did my undergrad where I met Cole, we moved to LA and got married. Went to UCLA for law school, got divorced," She paused here just for a brief second. He doubted anybody noticed, but he did. A flash of pain ran through her eyes. From the divorce, he wondered. He dismissed the thought as she had seemed too comfortable with it earlier. Something else. Some painful memory that was still haunting her. All thoughts running through his mind stopped when she finished her Reader's Digest version of the past ten years. "Then I moved to New York City where I'm practicing at Holme, Ryan and Cooper."

The table once again fell into silence, Brian, Andy and Allison suddenly all seemed very interested in their drinks. "What?" Claire asked tentatively.

"Nothing," John replied, "How long have you been in New York?" He could see the waiter returning with their orders.

"Almost a year, now. Remember when you told me you were moving to New York?" Accepting her plate, she looked at him with sadness in her eyes.

"Yeah."

"I heard you moved to Toronto a year later." She said, waiting for him to confirm or deny the rumour.

"Yeah, I did." He had to admit he felt somewhat guilty for not exposing the whole truth. It was true, he had moved to Toronto when he was twenty, but his uncle who owned the bar had convinced him to return with a new position as supervisor. So he returned back to city that he had grown the love.

They ate their meal with relative ease, Andy sharing some humorous stories about being a policy officer in Seattle. He occasionally reached over and touched Allison's growing belly and she glowed with pride.

When they were finished their meal the boys went over to the pool table while the girls sat back and visited.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me!" John said to Andy with frustration while chalking up his cue. "And I really can't believe you didn't tell me." He through at Brian.

"I left it up to Brian." Andy said defensively.

"Don't look at me," Brian said putting up his hands in mock surrender "The last time I brought her up you almost beat the shit out of me. For self preservation alone, I decided against it."

John laughed and shook his head. He lined up to break.

"Jesus, Brian, you're not a hundred and twenty pounds anymore, you could have taken him." Andy said laughing.

"I didn't see you telling him." Brian laughed

"What, do I have a death wish?"


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: It seems like every time I start a chapter it always ends differently than I anticipate it. Anyway, please review and let me know what you think.

The evening ended on the early side of one o'clock with John cleaning up in pool winning four of the six games. But if they were foolish enough to challenge a guy who owns a bar he figured they deserved it.

"How did you do, honey?" Allison asked in a mocking voice when Andy approached the table.

"Let's put it this way, we can't afford diapers anymore, we're going to have to potty train the baby right away." Andy laughed as John was counting his winnings.

They decided to call a cab and call it a night. When the cab showed up it was only then that they realized there were only 3 seats available. Allison quickly asked the cabbie to call for another car but John cancelled it just as fast. "I'm going to walk," he replied evenly, "and four of you can fit in."

"No, John, it's at lease a twenty minute walk," Allison cut in, "And it's threatening rain." She glanced nervously at the clouds in the sky.

"A little water never hurt anybody, and I feel like the exercise." John replied. "Besides, I could use the time to figure out what to do with Sporto and Johnson's money."

"Suit yourself," Allison said "but don't come running to me when you get sick." She said in her best motherly tone.

"Yes, ma'am" John acknowledged as he nodded his head at the others he turned away to start on his trek. "Goodnight!" He threw over his shoulder.

He thought he made it. He thought he could walk off the tension in his body and mind over Claire and go to bed and wake up with a new attitude. An attitude that didn't give a shit if Claire Standish was single, living in his city and successful. An attitude that didn't give a shit about Claire Standish at all. This trip was supposed to get her out of his system, but how could any man get her out of his system when she smelled like that. Her scent was enough to make a grown man beg. As soon as she went over to join their pool game her scent of musk and lavender assaulted his senses and it was all he could do not to kick everybody else out and make good use of the table.

But now, being outside breathing deeply, he was trying to cleanse his olfactory. "John wait!" He heard her call. He stopped and sighed. Turning slowly she was jogging to catch up to him. His mind flashed back to ten years prior when a scene similar to this was playing out. The streetlights caught her flaming hair and when she stopped in front of his her cheeks were, once again, flushed. Has it really been ten years? "I want to walk with you."

"Not a good idea, Princess." He said, looking into her eyes as if challenging her.

"Yeah, well, I've been known to make some pretty bad decisions. I doubt this will be the clincher." She said. He nodded accepting the apology for what it was and started to walk.

"Nice night." He said, despite the humidity in the air and the distinct feeling of his impending doom.

"It's beautiful." She responded almost wistfully.

"You like New York?" John asked, not knowing what else to say.

"Yeah" She responded thoughtfully, "it's a funny thing about that city. It gets under your skin, you know?"

"Yeah, I know." John replied, "Where do you live?"

"Greenwich Village" she responded shortly.

John responded with a low whistle, "Fancy."

"I guess. There's something very satisfying about making and spending your own money, you know? This is the first time I have ever had that."

John laughed softly, "No, I guess I don't know. When you do it all your life, it tends to lose its lustre."

"I guess it would," Claire said laughing. "I notice no ring, John, are you seeing someone?" She asked, looking at the sidewalk.

He looked directly at her, surprised at her forwardness. This was definitely not the Claire he remembered. The Claire he remembered was coy and taunting, this one seemed not to have any time for games. "I guess not." He responded. "You?"

"I haven't been that eager to get into another relationship since Cole. I'm trying that living on your own thing. I kind of like it."

He took that as a warning. Back off. She's happy. "Yeah, I know what you mean." John said, noticing that all of the sudden his has were forming fists as if to control the situation.

When the thunder boom ahead of them, the polite conversation came to an end. The rain started to pour down instantly soaking them. He wasn't sure what he was expecting from Claire, perhaps a small shriek and her jogging toward some shelter. Instead, she turned to him, her shoulder length red hair now plastered to her head and a huge smile on her face. "I guess this wasn't the best night for tweed!" She yelled over yet another boom of thunder. She was laughing and John was in awe. God, she was beautiful.

He slowly lifted his arms and started to unbutton her tweed coat. She stopped laughing and became silent. She stared at his face in shock and he began to push the coat off her shoulders. He wanted to laugh but instead was so caught up in the moment.

He caught her coat in his hands and stripped himself of his leather jacket. The dry shirt beneath instantly moulded to his body with the rain. He then helped her into his jacket and zipped it up as if she were a child.

He took satisfaction in seeing her eyes dart quickly over his torso. Her mouth opened but all that came out was a meek "John?"

It took his entire being to smile and back away from her. The closeness was too much, they needed space. He started walking, and as if in a trance she followed.

"Come on, Princess, let's get you back."


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: I know it's been forever since I've updated, and you've probably all given up on me. I've had a really tough couple of months with some personal tragedy so things are just starting to feel normal again. This chapter is really short and not a lot happens, but I'm hoping to tie it into some up coming chapters. Thanks for your patience, and let me know what you think.

After depositing Claire neatly in her room, John returned to his room, stripped off his clothes and stepped underneath the scalding spray of the shower. Trying to relax his tense muscles, John cursed. This was going to be the longest weekend of his life.

When he finally made it to bed, sleep was evasive. And when his body finally succumbed to the physical exhaustion, his dreams were haunted by angels with red hair and porcelain skin.

The next morning when he snuck out of this room at a quarter after seven, he had the distinct feeling he was cheating. Like the feeling he use to get when he'd sneak out of his house at the age of fifteen to smoke and drink by the lake. But he didn't care. He was a grown man, and if as a grown man he decided to take the morning off from reunion festivities it was his prerogative. And he was damn well going to exercise that.

He spent the morning in the local Starbucks reading the New York Times and drinking his Gold Coast coffee black. Taking his second coffee to go, he started to wander. He was not yet in the mood to return to the hotel but had nothing really to do. Taking a walk through his old neighbourhood, he pondered if he should stop in to visit his mother.

His father had passed away two years earlier. When he returned for the funeral his mother had barely recognized him. He stayed as long as necessary and left at the earliest opportunity and had not been in touch since. He felt some guilt when he though about it, but standing in front of his old house, he was unsure if he could ever forgive her. He had heard the saying the forgiveness is golden, but he was not sure he was capable. Parts of him still hated her.

She witnessed the horror of his childhood and did nothing but encourage the behaviour of his father. He remembered back to the days when he questioned why they had even had him. Now, he realized that it didn't matter. All that mattered was now. He smiled as he came up with his answer to the question of if he should see his mother. All that mattered was now.

He made his way up the path to the well-maintained Cape Cod and knocked on the door. When his mother answered the door with a polite look on her face she asked, "Yes, can I help you?"

John laughed quietly and replied, "It's me, Ma. It's John."

The look of shock quickly passed across her face, "Oh Johnny! I hardly even recognized you!" She exclaimed. Maybe that's why he hated when people called him Johnny. "Please, won't you come in?"

"No, Ma, I'm not here for long. I just wanted to stop in and say hello." So instead of going into the house they sat on the veranda and tried to soak up what little sun was breaking through the clouds. "How have you been?"

"Oh, okay. It's been difficult without your father, you know. Tony, our neighbour, has been very helpful with the yard work and everything." She said, looking wistfully at the old oak that grew in the yard. John nodded silently, not wanting to ruin the untarnished view she had of his father. "You should go see his grave, Johnny."

"No, Ma, I don't think so." He responded quietly.

"Fine. You know, you're just as stubborn as he was." She snapped.

"I'm nothing like him." John responded, equally as quiet and patient as his earlier comment.

"You're exactly like him, Jonathan Bender. And if you think running off to the big city is going to make you different you can darn well forget it. The apple never falls too far from the tree, Johnny, it's his blood you have in your veins."

John rose quickly, not wanting to get her upset, he simply said. "I just wanted to stop by and let you know everything is going well. It was good to see you, Ma." He said as he leaned down and kissed her cheek.

And that, he told himself, is why he was nothing like his father. His father would have lashed out, taking his anger out on a weak woman or a defenceless boy. Not John. He simply got up and walked away.

"Johnny?" His mother called, when he turned she said, "I know he had a strange way of showing it, but your father loved you." Johnny just nodded and continued on his way wondering what his father ever did to deserve such a devoted wife.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: There is a little more going on in this one. Thanks to everybody who is still reading despite my hiatus. Let me know what you think, it is always appreciated.

When John returned to the hotel it was going on two o'clock. In his room he ordered room service and gave a quick knock on Claire's adjoining door. There was no response. He knew that there was a tea in the lower lobby where the reunion class was meeting, but he just couldn't bring himself to join them.

Opening up the curtains that covered the patio doors he noticed the clouds parting and the sun finally making a decent effort to break through. He opened the doors and stepped out onto the balcony. His suite had the best view of the city and from it John could see how much Shermer had changed. There was nothing that wasn't touched by time.

The residential areas seemed bigger, the downtown area had several new high rises and it seemed as though the small city of Shermer was growing. Part of that unsettled him. John liked to think that he moved out of Shermer because it was too small for him, but maybe he left because he was too small for Shermer. Not now, of course, but then. When he thought the only way out was out.

When he heard the faint knock on the door his heart jumped. For a split second he got excited at the idea that Claire was there. He cursed himself as he accepted the room service and tipped the young girl at the door. "Hey Miss!" John called as she turned to leave.

She turned on the spot and looked back, "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Do you go to Shermer High?" He asked

"Yeah," She responded waiting to hear why he asked.

"Is Richard Vernon still there?"

"Dick? Yeah, he's still there." She smiled cheekily and turned on her foot and left.

Chuckling, John shut the door and noticed that the light on the phone was blinking. He assumed that meant that he had a message and putting down his tray, he picked up the receiver. Pushing on the red blinking button Brian's voice came through clearly. "Dude! Where are you? I can't believe you're abandoning me this morning. Oh well, now I get Claire for a date. I guess I should almost thank you. If you bail on me tonight so help me God …"

John returned to the balcony and sat down to eat his meal of a Montreal smoked meat sandwich and a side salad. As he munched on the remains of his lettuce he felt his eyes start to droop. The lack of sleep was starting to get to him, so he returned to his room, closed the curtains, stripped and hopped into bed.

When John woke hours later he thought he was still dreaming. Claire was standing at the end of his bed with he hands on her hips. Her red hair looked tousled and the black turtle neck she had on made her skin look like milk. "Hey Duchess, why don't you join me?" John said sleepily. As soon as the words slipped out of his mouth he woke from his semi-dreamlike state and was suddenly embarrassed.

She laughed huskily and sat on the end of the bed looking at John. It was then that he noticed that the sheet was tangled and ended around two inches below his waist baring the majority of his torso. He figured he had two options, grab the sheet like a self-conscious school boy or the alternative. So John fold his arms behind his head and asked "What can I do you for?"

"Where the hell were you this morning?" She asked, sounding annoyed in a playful way. John did not want to get into it.

"I had some things to do." He responded shortly. He was giving off his best "leave it alone" vibe.

Claire took the hint for what it was and responded clearly, "We have dinner in twenty minutes."

"Well, unless you're planning on wearing that, it looks like we're going to be late." John stated admiring her threadbare jeans.

She shrugged, "I guess. Get up, John."

"I would, but I'm not completely sure you would enjoy the show." He said with a smile.

Laughing Claire rose and exited through the ajar door that led to her room.

Minutes later John stepped out of the shower and into his black suit. He chose a navy button down out of the closet and while doing up his belt John stepped out on to the balcony once more. The sun was setting creating a dramatic array of colours on the horizon.

He heard a rustle and turned to see Claire on her balcony next door. She was standing, facing the horizon with her black satin dress flowing behind her. The dress hung so her back was bare and a slit ran up her left leg exposing her delicate shoes. He took a moment to study her. Every last detail branded on his mind so he could never forget. He knew this was torture, but he couldn't, or wouldn't stop himself.

"Want to come over for a drink?" He asked, feeling danger in the pit of his stomach and ignoring it.

She turned to him, "We're late for dinner." She stated neutrally.

"Want to come over for a drink?" Eyes smouldering he repeated the question.

She smiled slightly, "Yeah." She responded as she disappeared into her room.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Whew! That was difficult … it's amazing what not writing for so long can do to you. This didn't flow like they used to, so don't give up on me just because of a eight month hiatus and one bad chapter. Let me know what you think and I'll see what I can do about speeding up my posts.

Cracking open the mini-bar John cursed its contents. Pleasing a princess with nothing but hard liquor and cheap wine was not going to be easy. Making a mental note to make a trip to the liquor store, he poured her a brandy and himself a generous finger of Jack Daniel's. When she walked through the threshold between their rooms, he thought she looked like she was floating. With strategically placed black satin swirling around her, she leaned against the door jamb and accepted her drink with a nod and a simple "thank you".

"I guess now would be the appropriate time to tell you how gorgeous look." John stated as he tried desperately to maintain eye contact. For the life of him he couldn't help but to look at the whole package; the dress, her legs, her curves and her fantastic face.

He could see her face begin to blush and he relished in it. He loved being able to have that effect on her. "Yes," she said sipping her brandy and taking an extra moment to lick the remainder of the smooth beverage off her lips, "I suppose this would be an appropriate time."

She was killing him. He knew it, at that exact moment, that she was killing him. He was starting to sweat, his mouth was starting to water and his hands were getting to itchy to feel the satin of her dress, the satin of her skin and he knew he had to do something. "In that case," he said putting his drink down beside the coaster, "we better get going."

A look of shock passed over her face ever so quickly before she bubbled up with laughter. Putting down her drink, still laughing, she responded "I guess so" and turned to go into her room and get her wrap.

She walked back into his room as he was buttoning up his jacket. She had her wrap in one hand, and her purse in the other. He put his hand out expectedly and she handed him her wrap and turned around. His intention was to cover her as quickly as possible so he could think his first coherent of the evening, but when she turned around she bared her perfect back to him and he couldn't help himself. He needed to know. So before performing the task he had been designated, he gently traced the knuckle of his forefinger down her spine resting at the gentle swell of her very lower back. He heard her breath hitch and felt her body shudder beneath his touch. He couldn't help himself but smile and say "very nice" before promptly depositing her wrap around her shoulders and holding the door for her exit.

Standing outside the two elaborate wooden doors of the Goldwood Room of the hotel they both hesitated. Claire had already met some the students earlier that day, but John had not. He, for a split second, felt like he as in his baggy flannel shirt with his hair in his eyes and, Jesus, was he ever craving a cigarette. He turned to Claire with a smirk on his face and asked "Do you want to go in first and I'll wait for five minutes so people don't think we arrived together?" He had said it as joke but realized he was holding his breath when she laughed and tugged on his coat.

He placed his hand on her back to lead her into the room, and forgot where he was when his hand hit pure flesh. The smooth texture of her skin felt at odds with his rough calluses, but he loved the contrast.

As they walked in virtually everybody turned to stare and a thought flashed through John's mind "So, this is what it feels like to be Claire Standish". All eyes were on her, at first, which was to be expected. Some people beamed and waved at Claire while others whispered things to their friends, most likely about how they'd wished she had gained eighty pounds or lost her fortune. Then, all eyes were on the guy who was leading Claire Standish into the room.

Most either didn't know him from high school or did not recognize him. But those who figured out that he was John Bender just stood in shock. He leaned in close to her ear and whispered "Is it time to go, yet?" Then the most amazing thing happened – she turned to John Bender, in front of everybody, and smiled.

Smiling up at him she said "Let's go find everybody". But instead of finding her cheerleading friends or her fellow debutants she made her way through the crowd and to the table with the brain, the basketcase and the jock.

When the arrived at the table, John leaned down and planted a kiss on Allison's cheek, "You look stunning." He told her.

Allison scoffed and laughed, "I look pregnant." She said laughing and tucking her hair behind her ears out of habit.

John smiled and repeated "You look stunning." He said as he squeezed her shoulder and took his place beside her.

"Smooth moves, Bender," Andrew said smirking, "How about you don't use them on my wife?"

"Threatened?" John asked laughing

"Nah," Andrew responded cockily.

"Maybe you should be." Allison responded laughing and linked her arm with John's. 


	10. Chapter 10

N/A: This one is a little short, but came a little easier than the last one. Let me know what you think.

The evening past quickly for John, he spent the majority of the time watching Claire mingle with their friends, and with her fellow graduates. When Claire walked up to Todd Cavanaugh, the guy she went to prom with, John itched to go over and offer to get her a drink. He noticed that Claire seemed guarded when talking to her old classmates. In fact, she seemed to be guarded with him as well, and he was too distracted to notice before. He thought he should stop analyzing, so he went to the bar, ordered a Jack and went for a stroll in the court yard.

The courtyard at the hotel was elegantly decorated. There were stone paths that led their way through the flowering shrubs and trees. All the paths met in the middle of the court where there was a pergola aged with years of weathering, ivy growing up around it and tiny white lights weaved throughout. John laughed lowly to himself, he was sure that this was taken from a movie somewhere, but couldn't put his finger on it.

"Care to fill me in on the joke?" Claire asked from behind him. He turned around slowly and nearly lost his balance when he saw her. It was one thing to see her dressed in that dress inside where she looked like she belonged mingling with her peers. It was something else to see her in that dress outside in the romance of the evening. He wasn't sure if the wind was on his side or against him when it picked up and accentuated the slit going up Claire's right leg and lifted her hair from her neck exposing inviting, white skin. He watched as she lifted her martini glass to her lips and couldn't help but shift his focus to her mouth as she sipped her drink. He wondered, for a split second, how the gloss she applied to her lips seem to keep them at the point where they appeared moist and tempting at all times.

"Not really." He managed to get out before having to wet his throat with his good friend Jack. He invited the slow burn down his throat and warming in his belly that the whiskey provided. He watched as Claire looked around. She seemed to take in every detail of their environment and when she looked back to him, she had something in her eyes. Something that told of wonder and anticipation. Something that made John have that instinctual fight or flight urge. He chose neither.

Instead, when the band queued up inside with an old Edith Piaf classic, he held his hand out. Looking at him suspiciously she placed her glass on one of the benches that lined the gazebo as he did, and she took his hand. When he drew her close to him, her body seemed to vibrate. She seemed to be scared, and he smiled into her hair, because he was scared as hell, too. He didn't know if he could do this.

He loved that when they danced she danced with him cheek-to-cheek without putting her head on his shoulder. He thought it made her seem both cautious and romantic. He held her close with his hand splayed across her lower back and his other hand enveloping hers held close to his heart. He knew that before he settled in too comfortably he had to say something. Before any words escaped his lips, he already regretted it.

"You need to tell me, Claire." He said, hating the pit in his stomach warning him that he shouldn't push her.

She stiffed in his arms, he could feel the tension in the muscles of her back instantly tighten. She leaned back and looked at his with fake aloofness in her eyes. "What do you mean, John? Tell you what?"

"Tell me why you're hiding. Every time you talk about Cole you get this look in your eye. And I know it's not him. I know you're not still nursing your broken heart over him." He held his breath hoping to God he was right. He had to be right, it had been years since her divorce and from what he understood she initiated it.

"And how do you know, John? Do you really expect that after ten years, you can come back here and expect to know me? How dare you?" She asked. Anger was coursing through her body so fast she started quaking and her eyes began to fill. "You don't know me except what you remember of me from high school. Jesus, John, we're not kids anymore." She turned on her heel to leave.

"Claire, wait." John said lowly, not sure if she would. She stopped dead in her tracks, but didn't turn. As if waiting for him to say the magic words before she would turn around and go back into his arms. "I may not know you. Maybe I thought more of the past thirty six hours than you did, but you need to tell me. Maybe this isn't what you want to hear, but you and I both know I'm an asshole."

"Yeah," She responded softly in an eerie calm that seemed to envelop her. "I guess we do." She said before walking back in the hotel, leaving him out in the cold.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: This just keeps flowing … not too far from the end now … maybe a couple more chapters and then we're done. Let me know what you think of this one.

John cursed himself as he started out of the courtyard and went for a walk. As he meandered through the streets he almost begged for rain to remind him of the night before. The gods were not on his side although the clouds hung heavy in the sky and the cool wind was beginning to pick up.

He hated that he couldn't let it go. He couldn't let go of the sadness that he saw in Claire's eyes. Even when she smiled, there was something there. Something that nobody else noticed. He thought that maybe that was the reason she became so upset. He called her on it and she resented him for it. And maybe she was right; maybe he had no business in her affairs. After all he didn't know her any better than he knew her.

That thought disturbed him. What made him think he was so all knowing about her when he continued to keep her at an arm's length? He was not about the spill his guts to her, so why did he expect any different from her? He made a vow right there that he would give as much as she would. It had to be an even trade, and because he was making the rules, he decided that she needed to give it first. She owed him that much.

With that thought, John turned down the street and headed back to his hotel, scuffing his feet as he went.

John slept soundly and dreamlessly until he felt a weight on the left side of his bed. John had a habit of waking up fully awake, and keeping his eyes closed while quickly assessing the situation. Where was he? What had woke him? Was he in imminent danger? He supposed he should thank his father for that, as it was him that made him fearful in the first place.

Assessing the situation he knew who he would see when he opened his eyes. And did he see her. He saw her lying next to him bathed in the glow of the street light peaking its way through the drawn curtains. She had changed from her temptress dress to a ribbed white tank top and a pair of men's boxers. Somehow she looked even more sexy now dressed in men's clothing and her face free of make-up.

She wouldn't look him directly in the eye, he noticed. Her eyes kept looking at her fingers, the wall or his chest. He was suddenly very aware that he was the better part of naked underneath the expensive cotton sheet. As soon as she opened her mouth, this state of dress was the last thing on his mind.

"You were right." She said softly.

"I had no right." John contested.

"No, you didn't. But that doesn't change the fact that I want to tell somebody." She said, almost shyly. "No, I don't want to tell somebody. I want to tell you."

When she paused here, he didn't know what to do. He didn't know what she needed to hear, and he certainly did not want to scare her away after she had come so far. He reached over to touch her arm but she pulled it away.

She continued in silence, picking at a stray thread on the comforter she lay on. "When Cole and I got married, we were so young. And not only in age, you know?" When she asked that question, he didn't answer. He didn't have to.

"A few months after we were married, things started to get a little rough, but we were working through it. Things were starting to get better and I got pregnant." John struggled not to gasp. Of all the possibilities this had not been one of them. Claire had a child.

"We were so happy. Things were finally getting better. When I got through my first trimester, I thought I was home free. I thought that if anything was going to happen it was going to be then." He eyes started to moisten, and she quickly wiped her tears with the back of her hand. "I came home from work one day and Cole was drunk. We got into huge a fight – he had been drinking more frequently and I was concerned about it. I was so angry I decided to take a walk. I stormed out of the house and fell down the stairs." He knew what was coming next, but she never verbalized it. She didn't have to. He could see it written all over her face.

"I wish I could say that it was the beginning of the end. But it was actually the end of the end. We broke up shortly after and I was left to deal with it alone." She paused here with a little smile on her face. "Not Cole, though. He got to deal with it with his dental hygienist in Fiji." She gave a little laugh and finally looked at him.

It was only then that he let himself touch her. He reached over and touched her cheek before he sighed and whispered, "Fuck." She looked at him and smirked slightly. John closed his eyes and licked his lips before he opened his eyes and said "I need to take you somewhere." After all, he had a bargain to keep.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Sorry for the lack of updating. I'm not even going to bother saying that I am planning on finishing this up right away because I always say that and then life gets in the way. Let me know what you think!

John never made a bargain that he didn't intend to keep. This one in particular, though, he was nervous about. Forget nervous, he was petrified. John was a self-proclaimed intimacy-phobic. He hated anything to do with sharing feelings or emitting emotion. A night like this one, though, held so much.

He urged Claire to get dressed and he did the same. When they left the hotel, neither said a word. He wondered if she knew where he was going to take her, but didn't have the balls to ask her. Instead, he jammed his hands in his coat pockets and crossed the street. The sky was clear now, and the moon was shining brightly causing Claire's skin to light up. A part of him didn't want to taint her with this. Her pain was so pure, so maternal that it was almost beautiful. Not that he considered her pain less painful, only that it seemed different when you missing somebody you lost who you loved so dearly. His pain was sinister and disturbing and so very dark.

When they turned the corner and started walking through a field heading toward a small forest of trees, he took her hand. He was very surprised when she never questioned him. The scene was set for a horror movie, but she kept by his side the whole time, perhaps worried that he would change his mind if she spoke.

Just before they came to the trees, in the clearing was a large boulder. The boulder was cut and polished and engraved with the words "BENDER: A devoted husband and loving father. Safe in God's keeping until we meet again." It was the first time John saw this stone in two years. Two years and he still felt the bile rise in his throat.

"I think I still hate him." He said quietly, just loud enough for her to hear. "And I hate that I can't forgive him." He was silent then, holding his breath waiting for her reaction.

"Maybe," she said delicately "You can start by forgiving yourself." She said as she gazed up at him, eagerly waiting for his reaction. He knew that she was frightened he would blow up at the suggestion, so instead he remained quiet about the suggestion. Instead, he sat down beside the grave on the dewy grass and pulled her down beside him.

"I'm not sure I know what you mean by that." John said, staring down at their joined hands in his lap.

"Only to say that there is nothing you could have done or not done to make him treat you as a father should. And, perhaps more importantly, there was nothing you could have done to have your mother stick up for herself or stick up for you. Your parents were who they were, and no amount of changing yourself would have changed that." When Claire stopped talking it was as if she bit her tongue. Like she had more to say, but reason was getting in the way yet again.

"Do you really think that's what's bothering me?" He asked, challenging her.

"Yes. I think it's the beginning, anyway." She answered with confidence. He liked that way she didn't back down. Maybe because his mother would have in a heartbeat.

"Maybe you're right." He said, sighing and turning to look at her. "But I don't really know where to begin." He admitted, sounding weaker than he could ever remember sounding before.

"I think this was a good start. And, I think you buying me an ice cream would be an even better one." Claire said with a smile. As if somehow she knew he needed to back away from the situation to see the forest from the trees, or whatever the expression was.

He rose to his feet and with one quick tug he had Claire to her feet and stumbling into his chest. For a split second he felt like turning around and saying "So there, Dad. Look at me now. I'm successful, I'm wealthy and I even got the girl." But he didn't, because this was something he had to work on. And because he didn't have the girl.

Because there was no ice cream shop open they decided to stop into a corner store, pick up a tub of Chunky Monkey and go back to the hotel.

So they sat on John's king sized luxurious bed, with a pint of ice cream and two spoons. The conversation was kept light, focusing on the last couple years of theirs lives, the portion where they were both successful and relatively pain-free. When the clock rounded five-thirty John decided they should turn in. He had a feeling that if he didn't stop it, she wouldn't have.

John was about to usher her through the adjoining door into her room before she uttered the words that were just about his undoing. "Can I stay here?" She asked. He turned to her quickly with a dangerous look in his eyes. "I mean, not do anything, I just don't really want to be alone."

When she looked at him, she started to flush from the bottom of her chest all the way to her eyebrows. He kept his voice low, a sort of warning, "That, Princess, is not a good idea."

She got the point pretty quickly and was through the door faster than he could say goodnight. They kept the door open, though, but neither acknowledged it.

The door being open penetrated John's dreams when her scent would waft through the opening and into his olfactory glands, yet again. The first time John woke up wanting, he placed his pillow over his head to block out her presence but it was no use. Eventually he had to reside with the uncomfortable suffering and her angel face haunting his dreams.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: I know it's been forever. Hopefully some of you haven't given up on me yet. Please review.

He had slept for only a few hours, and even then it was intermittent and unsatisfying. He found himself twice throughout the night reaching for her and couldn't for the life of him figure out why, for the mere fact that he hadn't let a woman stay over night for the past year and a half. When he woke up for the last time, he didn't know whether to give thanks to the heavens that he was returning home that day, or mope around in a self-pitying heap.

He rose and intended on peaking in Claire's room to see if she had woken. When he glanced through the threshold he could see that she was curled on her side with those deliciously crisp sheets wrapped tightly around her body. Her hair was fanned out on the white pillow case and he couldn't help but take three more steps so he could see her more clearly. He couldn't help but laugh softly at the thought that she was so much less intimidating when she didn't have the opportunity to give him a good verbal lashing. But she was stunning. All that fiery hair and buttermilk skin was enough to make a man crazy.

He turned to leave her when she softly spoke "And here I thought you were planning on joining me." She said. He turned around slowly and willed his body to cooperate. Her eyes were glimmering but were clouded by sleep. She smiled up at him from her inviting king sized mattress.

"Nah," he responded quickly, "I was wondering what would be the best way to wake you: warm water to your hand or cold water to your face." He answered sarcastically. "My flight leaves in a few hours." He said, sounding more serious than he intended.

"That would get you back in Toronto by nightfall, I suppose you'll be itching to get back to work." She said, her voice holding an element of disappointment. "I don't leave until seven this evening," she stated, "I like to fly into New York at night. The lights are incredible."

"I remember." He said. Suddenly guilt was feeding on his stomach lining. Part of him wanted to tell her that he lived in the same city and had been for years. Another part of him wanted to leave Shermer and her this afternoon and never look back. He had spent so many years looking back. He knew now, it should be enough. He saw her, spoke with her, hell, he knew he could have her. But having her for a night wasn't going to be enough, and he knew it. So much had passed between them in their time together in high school and now that it seemed almost impossible for what little they had to go anywhere else. "I'm going to grab a shower and get packed. Want to grab brunch before I head for the airport?"

"Sure," she mumbled as she rubbed her eyes, "I'll call everybody and let them know."

He was surprised at the disappointment that he felt in the pit of his stomach. Of course, they should all have one last meal together, but part of him just wanted to savour the time he and Claire had left before they had to return to reality. "Fine." He stated as he walked to the adjoining room and into his bathroom for a short, but frigid, shower.

After showering and packing, John found himself in the strangest of moods. He found himself in a situation where his feelings were so mixed, so contradicting, that he felt anxiety. John never felt anxiety. Ten years ago he promised himself he wouldn't count on feelings, but instead rely on logic. Logic had been very good to him. The last place his feelings got him was curled up in the corner of his dad's basement with cigar burn to his left shoulder blade. Apparently his dad didn't believe that he found the earring under the school bleachers.

Brunch came and went and John was anxious to leave. He just wanted to get the hell out of the situation which had deprived him of so many meals and so many hours sleep. He wanted his life back. The life that required him to love nothing but his bar and the staff that had grown into a family. The life that demanded only gin and tonics and balancing books. The life that he had built so carefully that it could never let him down. He was sick to death of relying on fate.

When his car pulled up, John efficiently packed his bags into the trunk. The driver got out to help, and John was so happy to be leaving he could have kissed him. Until he turned around and saw her. Of course they were all standing there ready to say goodbye, but she stood out. She was so ridiculously beautiful, he thought. Over the years, he had been almost able to convince himself that she wasn't so hard to turn his back on. All the feelings he had ten years ago, he had chalked up to teenage hormones and lust. But now, looking at her eyes glowing with unshed tears, he knew he was fooling himself.

Saying goodbye to Allison and Andy was easy, as he knew he would be seeing them right after the baby was born, just as he promised. Brian he saw fairly regularly where his work was so portable, that a simple hug and a "see you later" was all that was necessary. Saying goodbye to Claire Standish, however, was downright painful. He saved her to last, so the others stepped away, but he was well aware they were watching eagerly.

"Well, Duchess, it's been a pleasure." John started, wanting to keep this moment that had the potential of becoming so unbelievably intense, light.

"Likewise." Was all she said, suddenly looking down at her shoes. He had a feeling she was worried her voice might crack if she said more.

He had to see. He couldn't help himself. It was like an out of body experience with his head telling him to turn around and get in the goddamned car but his body was acting on its own. He saw both his hands come up and cradle her chin, guiding her head up so he could look her in the eye. Her green eyes swimming, one tear escaped and ran a course down her cheek and ended on his right thumb. He didn't know what to say. He didn't want to make silly promises or say something just for the sake of the moment. Instead he said something true. "I'll think of you." He said simply.

So, he said something true, and ended with something stupid. No, he couldn't turn around and get in the goddamned car like his brain was telling him to. Instead, still cradling her face, lowered his lips to hers. This, he coined, as the stupidest move he ever made.

She tasted like strawberries that were still warm from baking in the sun all afternoon. And just like those berries, all he wanted was more. He felt the relatively chaste kiss down to his toes and when she sighed into his mouth, he just about hauled her over his shoulder and headed back into the hotel. Instead, he pulled back, dropped his hands and got in the goddamned car and drove to the airport.


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: Done! Finally! Hope you are still reading. Please please please review!!

John was hoping that the flight home would feel like flying into the future. He had finally put a lid on the past and was ready to move on. Returning to his city, his bar and his flat, he felt almost like he was running away instead of returning home. He hated that even though he chalked it up to lack of sleep and close proximity, two weeks later he still felt off kilter.

Tonight, though, he was starting to feel better. Starting to feel like the cynical, sarcastic kick-ass bartender he was. The place was packed wall to wall and drinks were being circulated at assembly-line speed. His favourite waitress, Jenna, who he had hired six years earlier, was working her magic and her smart-ass brother, Lucas, was manning the bar with him.

Lucas was full of "what can I get you, beautifuls" and "my man! Good to see yous". However much John hated to admit it, not only was Lucas one of the best bartenders in the city, but one of his best friends. When they were manning the bar, there were always bottles being tossed to each other and manly banter being shouted through the noise of the bar.

"Hey, Bender!" Lucas yelled, straining to be heard over the shouts of laughter and clinking glasses the eleven o'clock crowd always brought. " Toss over the Bombay! This fine young lady is requesting a martini. Dirty." When John looked at the subject in question, an over bleached, over tanned twenty-something was drooling over his partner in crime, and Lucas was eating it up.

As John threw the bottle toward him he shouted, "Heads up!" John looked over and winked at a brunette who was giving him her best "come hither" look. "It's getting hard to toss you bottles with your head getting so big!"

"Yeah, well, it's about time you got yours out of your ass!" Yelled Lucas, tossing John a bottle of Triple Sec. "Ever since you got back from Sherman, you've been more of a prick than usual."

"Shermer!" John corrected, shaking up a perfectly balanced cosmopolitan.

"What?!" Lucas yelled, popping a cherry into a sling.

"Shermer." John repeated. "I was in Shermer. And fuck off." John stated dangerously, and promptly closed the discussion.

After a minute or so of silence between the two, Lucas yelled "Bender! I need a bottle of wine from the back! Chardonnay for the knock-out!"

John realized he was holding his breath only when he looked over and saw a model-thin brunette with a bob sitting primly on one of his mahogany stools. He released the breath he was holding and went out back to grab a bottle. "Get a hold of yourself, Bender." He muttered while searching through his house whites. Selecting the bottle he tossed it to Lucas and excused himself to go on his break. He climbed the three flights of stairs to the roof of the building. He had built a private rooftop patio a couple of years back and used it frequently.

The night had cooled significantly. The chill felt like a cool shower on his glistening skin. No matter how cool it was outside, inside his bar was always too packed with patrons to benefit. The moon shone brightly as it bounced off his patio and small gazebo. John opened a small door in the gazebo and pulled out a bottle of Jack and a tumbler. As he poured himself a generous finger of the honey coloured liquid, John thought the air had a certain lightness about it that shimmered with anticipation. "Jesus, Bender." He thought. "Pull it together." He downed the burning liquid in one shot and returned back to the bar.

After pouring what John thought was his fiftieth vodka cranberry, it was finally time to start closing up. The bar was starting to empty out on its own, but fifteen minutes after last call people really started filing out. By the time two thirty rolled around it was just John, Lucas and a couple of stragglers.

While Lucas was wiping down the bar John turned to organize the bottles on the mirrored bar behind. When he heard the door being pushed over he instinctively called out "We're closed."

He stiffened at the sounds of her voice. Warm liquid honey washing over him. "Too bad. I guess I can come back tomorrow."

He turned around to see Claire's back starting to walk away. He knew she was teasing him. He knew she wouldn't actually leave, but he couldn't take the risk. "Good to see you, Red." She turned and the breath caught in his throat. She stood there, in all of her glory, in a black dress that just skimmed her knees. The contrast of black on white on red was just about all her could take. "Can I pour you a drink?"

"Mmm." She responded in the affirmative. She was distracted by his bar. _His _bar. He poured her a brandy and walked around the counter to her. She was running her hands seductively over his freshly polished mahogany tables and looking at the art he had carefully picked out that hung on the wall.

She took the drink without looking at him and immediately took a sip. She looked so surprisingly confident standing in front of him staring at the only one of the paintings that he had painted and had the guts to mount. "I like this." She said, as if moderately surprised. "In fact, this whole place is beautiful." She said, taking another sip of her drink not taking her eyes off the painting.

"Thanks, Duchess." He said, trying bury the pride he felt swelling in his middle. He shouldn't have cared. But he did. "You come here to make sure I'm doing okay?"

"Actually," She started, finally turning around as if the spell she was under was broken. "I came here to call you a coward." As she drained her drink he heard Lucas whistle lowly at the bar, obviously enjoying the show. John took a breath to start speaking, start defending himself or apologize or something to break the cold chill in her voice. He was interrupted before he could even begin. "You knew I lived here. You knew. You know how I found out? Allison, in her emotional pregnancy state, decided it was my right to know. So when I called her asking for your address she was honest. And I was livid. At first. Then I started thinking. And you know what I was thinking, John?" She asked, when he opened his mouth the respond she cut him off again. "I was thinking, if he doesn't want to see me, which he obviously does not, that's his decision. And it stings, of course, but I will not be the girl who comes begging." He could see she was beginning to flush from the top of her chest rising over her face, and he wondered if any woman could be more beautiful. Or infuriating. "So, you might ask, what the hell am I doing here? Believe me, I'm asking the same thing." She said softly, taking a sudden interest in her shoe's contrast to the cherry stained hard wood. "I went on a date tonight." She stated.

"Claire …" John said, but didn't know how to finish the sentence.

"Don't call me that. You never call me that." She said softly, suddenly looking his straight in eye and scaring the hell out of him. "I called Allison for your address because I have something for you. I was going to mail it to you in Toronto, but obviously you're not there. I thought I would drop it off on the way back from dinner."

John didn't know what to say, so he said the first thing that came to his mind, "Your date didn't walk you to the door?"

Instead of coming back with a scathing remark, instead Claire put down the glass she was holding and reached into her purse. She pulled out a small box wrapped in parcel paper and handed it to him. Their hands brushed and a jolt of electricity bolted up John's arm and went straight to his heart instantly making it beat faster.

As John started to unwrap the small package Claire spoke, "After you left I went to your old house and spoke with your mother." He stopped mid-unwrapping and stared at her incredulously. "I know you're probably pissed as hell but …"

"You went to see my mother?" he asked forcefully cutting her off. Suddenly he was well aware of his audience. John grabbed Claire's arm and stared walking quickly causing Claire to stumble behind him. "Lucas, close up when you're finished." He stated, purposely not forming the phrase in a question.

He practically dragged her up the stairs to the roof. With his hand gripping her arm he could feeling her skin instantly goosebump as the cool night air hit her. He couldn't focus on that. "Want to tell me what the hell you were thinking?"

"I was thinking that I wanted to know you. All of you. I wanted to know where you came from, no matter how ugly. Apparently I _wasn't_ thinking or I would have realized it doesn't matter." She said, looking out on the city around them. "Look, I didn't come here to argue. I just wanted to give you what was yours, your mother gave it to me thinking I could track you down. Kind of funny, don't you think?" She half chuckled as she turned away from him and headed for the door. "Goodnight, John."

"Just wait a god damned minute!" John said, stopping her in her tracks. "Jesus, Claire, you walk in here surprising the hell out me, forgive me for not being on top of my game." He said, frustration roughening his voice. "Just, come over here and sit down a minute. It's after three, I doubt an extra minute is going to make a difference."

She turned and seemed to be pondering the idea a moment before walking over and sat on a bench the faced the city. He took a seat beside her and draped the coat he had grabbed on the way out around her shoulders. John resumed unwrapping his present and slowly opened the lid of the box. In the box, on a layer of soft velvet, lay a single diamond earring. One he had lost after a particularly brutal attack by his father. He picked up the small earring and stared at it almost speechless. The silence was broken when he said the only thing he could think of: "My ear isn't pierced anymore."

"Yeah, well, maybe you can use it as a tack or something." Claire said with a laugh. The silence between them grew into minutes with Claire wrapping the coat tighter around her and John staring at the earring in wonder.

"You have no idea what this meant to me. When you gave it to me, it was a reminder of where you were from in comparison to me. But it was you who gave it to me and made me think that maybe it could happen."

"Then I screwed everything up." She said, half laughing about it. He guessed there wasn't much else to do about it.

"Yeah, you did." He said with a smile. "But here we are, ten years later." Without looking at her, he reached over and grabbed her hand. "I'm not going to run this time." He said. He could hear the pain and fear in his voice. He guessed she could, too.

"Me neither." She said, not realizing the weight she lifted from his chest. He spent the past ten years of his life pushing her away. Whether it was actually her, or just a replacement, it was always her he was pushing.

He stood and walked toward the edge of the roof. He leaned his elbows on the wall and clasped his hands. He could feel her rise and take her place beside him. "I hate that you saw her. I hate that you went to her." Claire started to talk but he wasn't finished. "I know this sounds ridiculous, but you and her are on opposite sides of the spectrum, if that makes any sense. I don't want you to see that part of me."

"It's not a part of you anymore, John. This is you. This city, this bar, this moment. This is you now." He didn't say a thing to the words spoken by her, just reached for one of her hands and grasped it between both of his.

"Sun should be coming up soon." She said, leaning a hip against the wall facing him.

He looked up at her and couldn't stop himself. He stood quickly and framed her face. "Listen, gorgeous, I'm going to say something to you, and I want you to remember it because chances are you're not going to hear this from me again. Do you understand?" She nodded with his hands still cradling her face. "Good. Here it goes. I'm sorry, okay?" He said, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "I'm so fucking sorry." He slowly leaned down and kissed her lips. Lightly, at first. He meant to keep it that way, light and chaste, but damned if she didn't taste like the summer and it went straight to his head. When she sighed into his mouth he took full advantage.

When the broke apart, both were gasping for breath and shaking with anticipation. "For what it's worth," Claire said, "I'm sorry, too."

"Yeah?" John said, draping his arm around her shoulders and leading her toward the door that led to his flat, "Hey Duchess, you believe in fate?"


End file.
